Movin' On

Well, my husband and I have successfully sold our house in the country and are moving to one of the larger cities in northern New England (where my business is). Looks as if we'll be moving within the next few weeks. The hard part (selling) is over; now comes the fun part: deciding among our favorites from the house-hunting we've done over the past months.

It will be very hard to leave this house, which (as a house itself) is best place I've ever lived: contemporary post-and-beam passive solar saltbox, not a thing wrong with it, sunny, gorgeous, surrounded by beautiful nature. But it's far away from my work and most of my friends, including the music venue I now own and operate.

It's not lost on me that this is the house where, about a year after we moved in, my mother and I went through a series of events which prompted me finally grow a spine, confront her, demand that she comply with some degree of common courtesy, and (failing that), compelled her to leave. The time before that series of 2005 events seems almost like another life to me now. I'm a bit sadder at times, but certainly older, wiser, and a lot kinder to myself --- as well as more appreciative of my husband, who was with me through every second of the drama. In other words, at the very time I finally saw my mother for what she is, in full, I also realized what it is to have a true partner in life --- for the first time. I passed through the eye of a very small needle during those few months, and he came with me for as much of it as is possible for someone who didn't share my lifelong experience with her.

So we're trading the countryside for a somewhat smaller house bordering a conservation area in the middle of the city (hopefully!). If not that house (our favorite), there are many others which are on our B list. We'll know more within a few days.

As I'm going through my papers and getting organized, I'm gathering up a pile of mail addressed to her, as well as to my grandparents. All of it is official mail, statements, prospectus materials, etc., from the funds and stocks that she owned jointly with them (or rather, she was named by them when they bought these investments, close to 30 years ago.)

My best guess is that, despite all the bravado and the attorney-drafted letter she had sent to me a few years back ordering me to stay out of her financial affairs (right around the same time she accused me of "identity theft"), she never did get anyone to actually manage her affairs. If she had, those funds and accounts would have eventually been updated to remove my long-dead grandparents' names --- but the first step would have been an address change for the statements, filed by her new financial manager. I'm assuming there is none.

After all, in her world, attorneys are for saber-rattling and more effective and impressive pontificating --- not actually making any proactive progress...

I'm sending the box of mail to her address at the hotel. Who knows if she is there, any more? If she's not, though, they'd be the ones who know the most about where to send it: her "paid friends".